It was an old song off the San Pedro album, one of my favorites. All thought of what the future may or may not hold for me and Mal slipped from my mind. Mal’s playing and the music owned me, the smoothness of his movements and his absolute focus. His energy. My face hurt from smiling by the time they reached the chorus. All four of us jumped to our feet and broke out into applause at the end. Jimmy laughed softly and bowed. A group of people huddled by the side of the stage took turns giving us bad looks. No idea what their problem was.
“That’s their manager, Adrian, and some of the record company people,” said Ev, her voice far from warm. “Piece of advice, steer clear of them.”
“Adrian’s an ass**le.” Lena settled back onto one of the wooden boxes. “But he’s a hell of a manager.”
The man in question was middle-aged, wearing a business shirt with a thick gold chain around his neck.
“Was he there last night?”
“Nope.” Ev flicked her hair over her shoulder angrily. “Adrian and I don’t get along. He prefers the band to be focused on their music rather than wasting time on relationships.”
“Like your sexing up David didn’t inspire the last album,” said Lena.
“Exactly. He should be thanking me.” Ev huffed out a laugh. “If he gives you any crap, Anne, let Mal know. He’ll deal with him.”
Four hours later the band finally stopped playing and handed their instruments over to roadies. My throat was raw from yelling, my hands red from clapping. God help me if I ever made it to an actual concert. There had been some stopping and starting as they worked on perfecting various parts of songs. Then they’d held meetings, just the four of them and also with some of the record company people. They also toyed with effects via the sound guys with their panel of buttons and dials. Us ladies had danced and hollered and had a great time all around. Each and every member of the band was so talented.
But Mal … we needed to get back to my apartment and ruin the remains of my bed.
His hair was dark with sweat and he’d long since lost his T-shirt by the time he approached. “Have fun?”
“Yes, I did,” I croaked.
“You losing your voice? I thought that was you screaming.” He pulled on his hoodie.
“Oh my god, is that the David Ferris?” Ev stood atop one of the boxes we’d been sitting on. Her husband just shook his head and held out his arms, eyes amused. She launched herself at him and with no difficulty at all, David caught her. Her legs went around him and their mouths fused.
“Get a room,” groaned Ben.
Mal handed me his drumsticks. “A memento of your first Stage Dive concert.”
Someone laughed, but I didn’t care. I held the sticks tight to my chest. “I’ll treasure them always.”
“She heard us play last night.” Jimmy hung back from the group, arms crossed. His good mood was apparently gone.
“That was acoustic,” said Mal. “And I’m not going to give my love a set of flimsy f**king brushes, am I? Only long, hard, phallic shaped things will do for a girl of her appetites.”
“I heard about you two.” Carefully, David set his wife back down, keeping an arm around her.
My head snapped up. “What?”
“Ooh, what happened?” asked Lena, ears practically perking up, puppy style.
“They broke the bed.” The look on Ev’s face—-hell, we were never going to live this down. “Can you believe that?”
“Of course we broke the bed. They’re just lucky we didn’t break the building,” announced Mal proudly, taking a bow.
David shook his head. “You two do anything interesting and I get Lauren calling at the crack of f**king dawn to tell my wife. Move already.”
“Anne likes it there,” said Mal. “No rush.”
“You got shit security. People get to know you’re in the area, you’ll have no privacy. And how f**king small are those apartments?”
“Relax, Davie. We’ll think about it. You guys, all so addicted to your mansions and fancy livin’. Why, Anne and I could live in a cardboard box and we wouldn’t even notice, our love is so epic. Isn’t that right, pumpkin?”
“Um, yes?”
“See?” Mal crowed. “She’s insanely psycho crazy about me. Material things mean nothing in the face of such worshipful adoration.”
David just shook his head.
“Whatever.” Ben ran a hand over his short hair. “I’m starving. We finding somewhere to eat and drink?”
“YES.” That was Lizzy. A very loud and determined-sounding Lizzy.
The bass player’s eyes moved over her with sudden interest. A slow, salacious smile curled his lips. “Well, okay then.”
Red alert. So not okay. My baby sister was not hooking up with a player who had to have eight or more years on her. If I wanted to be stupid with my heart, that was on me. I’d let Lizzy get hurt over my dead body.
“Don’t you have to get back to school, Liz?” I asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
“I thought you had an assignment to do?” I communicated much with my eyes.
She ignored it all. “Nope.”
“Lizzy.” I forced her name out through gritted teeth.
“Ladies, ladies,” Mal said, sensing the rising hostilities. “We got a problem here?”
A woman who’d been hanging with the record company executives approached, her high-heeled boots tapping across the floor. Her smile was tentative. The woman was gorgeous, br**sts about a billion times the size of mine (granted, not hard to do) and blond hair in a cool pixie cut. “Mal?”
He turned and his entire face lit up at the sight of the girl. My insides knotted. Yes, fine. I might have been a bit jealous.
“Ainslie, when did you arrive? Looking good.” He sounded super happy. They hugged. Then they hugged some more. The girl giggled and sighed, pressing herself against him. Holy shit, was that bitch actually feeling up my fake boyfriend in front of me? She was practically humping his leg. Given the dynamic between the two, there could be no doubting what their relationship was about. I’d finally met one of Mal’s f**k buddies. It had to happen. Surprise was stupid and I had no real right to hurt feelings. Pity that didn’t make the pain disappear.
I could feel the other women’s eyes on me, boring holes into my skull. No way was I returning their stares. Mal had obviously found someone to scratch his itch. Meanwhile, my face was heating up. The entire scene was f**king horrible and embarrassing.